She gasped, her heart shook, and her eyes widened, as his hand lay on her round and firm bottom.
Every muscle on her body tightened up out of surprise as he gently squeezed and pulled her closer.
Sudden.
Surprising.
Unexpected.
Her puzzled eyes stared at him.
No one had touched her that way before. No one had attempted doing so. And anyone who had would have walked away with a hand missing.
No one had ever.
It was dirty. Undignified.
Why did it feel so good?
She kissed him as she raised her leg.
She wanted to be touched more. She wanted him to touch her more.
Her legs were wrapped around him as he supported her weight by holding her bottom. She kissed him fervently. Intensely, and breathlessly, she kissed him.
More.
Undignified. Dirty.
More!
Dirty. Unbecoming.
More! She wanted more!
He slowly lowered a knee to the ground as he kissed her.
Before gently laying her on the ground where, only then, she caught her breath.
His hands moved in the space between her thighs and claves, grabbed her by the hips, and slowly pulled her closer.
Unbecoming. Filthy.
More!
Forbidden desire.
More!
A Princess shouldn't...
He stroked her ankles with the back of his hands, going up her legs, and bringing the white gown with those hands.
She blushed and felt lightheaded.
I want to.
I can't.
I want to.
I can't.
I can't?
I shouldn't.
A Princess shouldn't.
A Princess wouldn't.
Gulp-
The white gown made its way to her stomach, revealing both her stomach and underwear.
His hands stopped moving the gown and instead, moved down her stomach, making her legs and arms quiver.
His touch was cold and pleasant.
She felt the heat inside her increase.
With one hand on the ground and the other on the side of her leg, he moved closer to kiss her stomach.
A Princess shouldn't.
She stopped with a hand to his shoulder.
He seemed confused, but he did stop.
"Mark, I-"
"Elisa."
She quivered.
Her name sounded good coming from his mouth. From the mouth she had been kissing.
"I've been thinking..."
She didn't look away. He didn't either.
She wanted to hear him.
She wanted him to talk.
She wanted...
"I'll go with you."
Her breathing was unstable.
The itch wasn't getting better.
"I don't want to leave you."
The heat increased.
"I'll go with you. To the Elven Forest."
Huh?
Why had he just...?
He didn't say that, did he?
He didn't.
He did?
He will?
He doesn't want to leave me?
Then he'll stay with me?
I won't be alone?
Even if I don't find my people? Even if... He'll be with me?
Despite the darkness surrounding them, her smile was bright.
Brighter than the stars that paint the sky.
As bright as the moonlight.
I won't be alone. No matter what, I won't be alone. He doesn't want to leave me. He'll stay with me. I'll always have someone. I'll always...
Suddenly, her worries seemed to fade.
A Princess shouldn't? Says who?
Princesses do grow up to become Queens, don't they?
In the first place, what does it mean to be a Princess? It's a Title, isn't it?
A Title I was born with. Mine.
Acting as a Princess is only natural for a Princess though, right?
That's right.
But... I didn't act like a Princess with mom. I acted as a daughter.
I didn't act like a Princess with dad. I acted as a daughter.
Mom didn't act as a Queen with me.
Dad didn't act as a King with me.
Then... It's fine, right?
Titles are for the outsiders, aren't they?
Then it's fine for me to not act like a Princess with him, isn't it?
I can allow myself that, right?
To act as a woman instead?
It's what I want. It's what my body wants. I can feel it. Then... It's fine, right?
Right?
Elisa moved her hand up from his shoulder to the back of his head, pulling him closer.
His lips landed on her stomach, and she could feel it.
She could feel him approaching the mysterious itch.
But before his lips could kiss any longer, she raised his chin with a finger.
With her other hand, she slowly moved towards his left elbow.
A place she had been ignoring.
A place she had been running away from.
She was kissing a Monster.
It was dirty.
Tantalizing. Unbecoming. Exciting. Filthy. Arousing.
Her hand moved towards that elbow. She lay it on the elbow, before bringing it closer.
It was hot.
The blood that soiled her palm was.
Still hot.
Blood he had spilled.
Blood he had kept her from spilling.
Blood he had spilled for her.
Elisa stared at that blood for a bit.
And for no real reason, she moved her bloody palm towards him.
Right where her ear had been earlier. Right where she had been listening. Right where his heart was, she lay that blood-stained hand.
She pulled back her hand, before moving it towards his face.
A horizontal line was drawn on his forehead.
She pulled back her hand.
Mark didn't really understand.
And, was Elisa asked, she wouldn't have had an answer.
Still, he moved his right hand towards his left elbow.
Passed between her stomach and gown, not without making her quiver at the cold touch, lay his bloody hand between her breasts, slightly to the left.
He pulled his hand out from under the gown.
Stared into her eyes, and drew the same horizontal line on her forehead.
Was it an Elven tradition?
Probably not. It was difficult to conceive of something Elven involving blood.
It was more of a... Feeling in the gut? An instinctive ritual, perhaps?
In any case, one thing was clear.
One thing that was obvious enough by the action.
The two were the same.
The same 'symbol'.
Their palms engraved on one another's body.
Only the two shared that symbol.
No one else had his palm on the chest.
No one else had hers on the chest.
Them, and them alone.
Marked, by one another.
Marked by blood.
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